Walking The Line
by spinoza-off
Summary: Long Spemily one-shot, set during or after episode 2x21. Spencer and Emily get drunk together... and they flirt. That's pretty much it.


_A/N: Apparently, my Spemily imagination is running wild and free. So you'll be probably bombed with Spemily one-shots until I'm cured of this sickness. _

_Situation: this one-shot takes place during and after 2x21, "Breaking The Code", when Spencer never meets Wren in that bar, but meets Emily instead (yeah, we wish). I'm trying to honor the two greatest drunkards of this show, Emily and Spencer._

_I'm not a jazz person, but somehow I figured that could be one of Spencer's rarities. There are three songs that are mentioned in the chapter: "But not for me", "My funny Valentine" and "My buddy". All sung by Chet Baker._

**Disclaimer: I don't own PLL, its characters and its storylines, although I'm starting to feel like I do. But I still don't, they're Marlene King's and ABC Family's.**

* * *

><p>Spencer swallowed down a tequila shot, taking advantage of the moment.<p>

"What are you doing?", Emily asked in complete and utter surprise.

"I'm having a bad day."

Emily looked at her with a mixture of indignation and wonder, but instead of scolding Spencer again, she looked around suspiciously and sneaked another tequila shot from the abandoned tray, drinking it in a single gulp as well. Her lips twisted in disgust as the strong alcohol burned her throat, and her dark brown eyes opened in fire, while Spencer gaped at her in return.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Are you the only one who's allowed to have a bad day?", Emily whispered back, already feeling warm and fuzzy. Confronted by Spencer's blank stare, she continued. "Oh, right, you're the only one, I forgot."

Spencer rolled her eyes at her, but the blank stare remained.

"Excuse me, I know you're having big family issues", Emily tried to whisper again, "but I have a girlfriend who's not answering my calls _again_, and an ex who just tried to kiss me because I was friendly to her."

Spencer had experience in being kissed when she was upset over a boyfriend, so she didn't really think it was that important. The Maya thing, however, was kind of bad.

"If you call that an ex", she deadpanned again, and gulped another shot down her throat.

Emily opened her mouth and her eyes in wide, scandalized shock.

"At least she was never engaged to my sister", she managed to strike.

"You don't have a sister", Spencer hit the ball back, clearly enjoying the tennis match. "And you're lucky not to."

"Oh, suddenly, somehow, we're back to you", Emily said somewhat graciously.

If this was a competition, she'd play it too. There were five more abandoned shots on the tray, and she took another one. This time it went down more smoothly, but the sudden warmth weakened her knees and blurred her head almost instantly. She hadn't had much to eat today, worried sick as she was about Maya's silence.

Spencer frowned at her. "Stop it already", she warned, because Emily wasn't strong enough for that. But the alcohol was hitting her head too, so she didn't really take it seriously. "I win anyway."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

There was a ton of reasons why, but Spencer wasn't going to expose all of them. Not now, anyway.

"I might've stolen the guy from my sister, but at least he never tried to drown me."

Emily's eyes went incendiary. It hadn't happened that way _at all_.

"I do remember another guy you kissed who actually tried to murder you."

Now it was Spencer who sent flames and caused a riot with her eyes. How dared she? The guy had basically tried to murder her _for real_. Emily was not supposed to bring that up in conversation! It was so inappropriate and so unfair!

However, the tequila shots were already doing their job. Life and all its problems and chaotic, disgraceful disasters had somehow acquired a lighter, funnier shade.

"But I kissed him _before_ he tried to murder me, not after", she sharply replied, instead of leaving with a door bang on Emily's face. "I win. Again. Point, set, match."

Cheers to that!

She stole another shot.

"You don't win", Emily raised her voice, and Spencer took a finger to her lips to silence her. "You don't win", she repeated in a lower voice.

"I do, I do, I win", Spencer counterattacked, "you don't have a point, and I'm sadder and also drunker."

Emily rolled her eyes at her, but the truth was that she'd already forgotten the point she was going to stress to win the argument. It was something related to murder, but she couldn't really put the reasons together.

Spencer reached for another shot, and Emily's hand stopped her.

"You want it?", Spencer asked.

"We're gonna get caught and the police is finally gonna take us down."

"Take it", Spencer offered, acting as if she hadn't heard Emily.

Emily hesitated. Two shots had already sent her body and her mind in different directions. Like, her body was warm and moving kind of slow, but her brain was… moving also kind of slow, but actually thinking very weird things that she couldn't really withhold and send to her tongue.

"Hanna's not the only one who can be a bad girl, Em", Spencer stated with a devilish look.

Since when did Spencer want to be a bad girl? And since when did she send devilish looks instead or mortally indignant ones?

"You're wasted already", Emily said, refusing the shot. Someone had to take care of Spencer if she was already like this, and she guessed it'd have to be her.

"Yes!", she raised her eyebrows funnily and smiled. "Drink with me. I'll take you home."

"We can't drive."

"I'll take you home anyway. We'll go walking."

"I don't wanna walk."

Spencer put her hand on Emily's hand and warmly squeezed it. "I'm not that drunk, really", she said, sounding serious. "I'm in control."

"You still can't drive."

"I'm saying we'll walk!"

It was her who'd raised her voice now. Shit. They were going to get caught if they kept raising their voices, so she decided to take the shot already instead of maintaining this long argument with Emily, who became plain impossible and insufferable when drinking.

She was already lifting the glass to her lips when Emily stopped her again, took the glass from her hand and gulped the shot. This time the alcohol didn't cause any apparent commotion on Emily's face. She drunk as if she'd had a glass of water, and Spencer gaped again at her. She'd stolen her shot! Amazing, shameless treacherous… gay person!

"Now we're even", Emily smirked. "I can keep up with you."

"Sure", Spencer crookedly smiled, in total disbelief. "You already look like you're gonna fall on the floor, red bloody-injected swimmer eyes."

"I do not."

"You do do."

Spencer reached for another shot. How many were there before on the tray? She decided to take a look around. The waitress was slowly approaching them, and Emily did already look kind of wasted with her red bloody-injected swimmer eyes and her heavy eyelids and long eyelashes batting in slow motion. They were going to get caught. She stopped the movement of her hand and, instead, firmly grabbed Emily's arm.

"We're outta here." Emily sent her an annoyed look, like she wasn't going to take that kind of bad, poor, demanding treatment. "I know where we can get more."

She dragged Emily's body away from the stool and they both stepped out into the breezy spring night.

Walking through the streets in the direction of her solitary, abandoned home (since her sister had decided to lie to her again and leave, and her parents… where were they tonight?), Spencer held on to Emily's arm and body, two shipwrecks in the night, two drunkards, two beautiful people with disgraced lives, two… God, she needed Aria here. She was at a lack of metaphors. Maybe they should call her and invite her to their party, so she could talk endlessly about how she _was_ actually seeing Ezra and how she had _lied_ to her about it!

She tripped on someone's foot.

"Emily, you're falling", she accused.

"Me?", Emily raised her already high voice. "It's you. I'm trying to hold you while you walk."

Spencer chuckled at that. "I've already held you while you're drunk and, believe me, you _are_ the one who's falling around."

Emily crossed her arms, leaving Spencer unattended and unbalanced.

"I am _not_ falling."

"Yeah, sure." Spencer delivered it with perfect sarcasm, although she was already feeling like a person looking into the void of a cliff. If she moved a foot, she would sway and totter and free fall into the long, distant see. "Point, set, match, remember?"

"Spencer", Emily glared at her, "I'm not falling, you are. I am perfectly capable of keeping a straight line."

The words sounded to Spencer's ear as a set of progressively opened bottles of champagne. That was the funniest thing she'd heard in years. No, in centuries. In millenniums. An inevitable cascade of hardly choked laughter naturally followed.

"_Worst _choice of words _ever_, Em", she managed to say while she laughed like the silliest girl.

Emily took a couple of steps forward, serious and offended, and then turned around and walked more or less steadily over the sidewalk border, showing she was actually capable of keeping a straight line without falling.

When she was done, she turned again to face Spencer.

"Are you sure it's actually that bad?", she defiantly asked.

Then she walked back to Spencer, this time somewhat more hesitantly, and grabbed her arm again.

"So, so, so bad", Spencer continued laughing, even though by that time she was pretty sure she was the one who'd tripped. "And so right at the same time", she expanded. "You were such a big fat liar all that time trying to make us believe you were sleeping with Ben."

"I wasn't lying."

"Yeah, right, you were having wild sex with him."

"I probably had more sex than you ever even dreamed of at that time!"

Spencer cocked her eyebrows at her. "Define sex."

"Sex for fifteen-year-old Spencer Hastings?", Emily continued. "Kissing a book cover. Oh, and a sister's boyfriend. First of a long line."

Oh, man, did she have to bring that up again?

"Wow. You _are_ mean when you're drunk", Spencer sarcastically replied, but immediately thought of an answer. "I've always wanted to ask you this", she made a dramatic pause while she observed Emily's expression of dread, "but do you ever feel like drowning someone?"

"You", Emily responded, "as in right now."

As soon as she'd said that, she pushed Spencer's body on the back to keep her walking, while Spencer tried to recover both from the surprising shove and from the surprising words.

They kept walking trying to keep a straight line, until they arrived to Spencer's house.

"Weren't you taking _me_ home?", Emily asked, slightly annoyed although she'd willingly walked towards the Hastings'.

"No, I was taking you to my house", Spencer explained while she looked endlessly for her keys, "where we can safely pass out once we get even more wasted than we are right now."

"That's not a good idea."

However, Spencer was already struggling to manage the key inside the front door's lock.

She couldn't do it. So she turned around frustrated and opened her mouth to speak, which was something she could still do, pretty well actually. She always had a way with words.

"You walk the line, you open the door."

She handed the keys to Emily, who took them in her hand.

"I don't wanna sleep here", Emily complained, bending down besides the door to try to get a good sight of the lock. "I don't wanna be here."

"Gee, thanks. And they call you the nice one."

Emily did some attempts at the lock, and Spencer immediately thought of a couple of very gross sexual jokes that somehow she managed to choke back. Drunk or not, she was still a lady.

"Faster, Emily!", she called out, and magically the door opened. "Wow. I love you when you follow my orders."

She placed a cute kiss on Emily's cheek and they entered the kitchen to the Hastings'.

When Emily approached the tap to get a glass of water, she felt Spencer's hand dragging her away one more time, now to the living room, where she was forced to sit on the couch. She slouched down, feeling dizzy but not numb enough to forget about Maya's unreturned calls and Paige's attempt of a kiss. She checked her phone again. No calls. No texts. Suddenly, she felt like crying. She shouldn't have drunk: instead of feeling better about everything she was already feeling worse and hating the world.

She heard a popping sound behind her, but she was feeling too blue to save Spencer from whatever domestic accident or murder attempt she was facing now.

A couple of minutes later, Spencer came back with a bottle and offered her to drink directly from it, without a glass. Was that the classy, elegant Spencer Hastings? Yes, it was her, but without the class; it was the crazy, wasted Spencer Hastings. Emily took a sip from the bottle anyway, since this might be the way to forgetfulness and oblivion, after all.

Yikes.

Yikes, yikes, yikes.

"This is not tequila", she said, trying to swallow down the gassy, acid type of alcohol.

"Bravo!", Spencer cheered. "My parents are too classy for that, swimmer girl. This is champagne, and it's _so_ expensive we're just gonna get wasted for the cost of a trip to Paris. Enjoy."

She took a sip herself and slouched down next to Emily, making a hiccup sound which made Emily wonder about her real state of intoxication. Maybe she was just trying to be funny.

If that was all the alcohol there was in the big Hastings mansion, Emily thought, she was never going to get really numb, forgetful and oblivious to the evil world around her. She'd remember the pain and she would cry her heart out, or else she'd end up killing Spencer. At least now they were here, so she didn't have to worry about Spencer's drunkenness anymore. She could just let her be whatever kind of wasted, crazy person she was deciding to be right now, while she tried to manage a escape to a corner where she'd remember every detail of her suddenly miserable life all over again.

She didn't like champagne.

Spencer sent her a funny look. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't like champagne."

"Everybody likes champagne!"

"Everybody who's over forty, maybe."

Spencer rolled her eyes and stood up waveringly. "Oooooh, dizziness." She sat down again. "Two many shots _straight_ to the heart", she said, sending a meaningful sideways glance to Emily. "I think we can get something else if you don't like this stuff. I just wonder how I'm gonna go get it."

"It's okay", Emily said, feeling also unable to search the house for another sort of alcohol.

"Oh, no, it's not", Spencer turned her body and looked right through at her. "I can see you going all the way down like…" She tried to think of a metaphor. "Aria. I need Aria."

Instead of searching for her phone, which was in front of her on the table, she took Emily's from her hands and dialled. However, Aria wouldn't pick up.

"The _bitch_'s probably on a date with _Ezra_ tonight."

Was she stressing every word on purpose?

"It's sending me to voicemail", Spencer explained. "Aria!", she yelled. "Come join the party, Aria! It's me and Em, and we're here all sad and lonely without you! Stop seeing you-know-who or I'll blackmail Emily so she has to tell your dad."

She hanged up.

"Was that too much?", she asked, feeling sorry about the A reference.

"Call Hanna", Emily replied instead, thinking maybe Hanna could come babysit Spencer. She didn't really feel like doing it herself anymore.

Numbness. That was what she needed, not Spencer's craziness.

"You just wanna get rid of me", Spencer said cuttingly. "I see right through you, Emily, and I don't like it. Let's get something else for you so you go all the way up again."

She tried to get up once more and actually managed to do it this time, but Emily mimicked the movement to offer her help. They both stood there, next to the couch, trying to find a fixed point of reference so they could then move in a concrete direction.

"I'm going up already", Emily tried to assure, thinking it'd be better to stay after all.

"You're going down and I'm getting you up."

"I'm up", Emily repeated foolishly.

Shit, they were going to start another absurd argument about being up and down. Define up, define down. She could see it coming. So she took the champagne bottle from Spencer's hands and took a gulp of it. Ugh. Yuck. But if this was going down, it was going down.

"I'm up. And this is disgusting."

Spencer let herself fall on the couch again.

"I like you better when you're nice", she said, although she was looking at her approvingly while she drank. "Let's get some music."

She stretched her whole body and her arm as much as she could, trying to reach the hi-fi system. After almost falling off of the couch for a couple of times, she managed to push the play button. A jazzy sound of piano and clarinet took over the room, while a mellow, croony manly voice sang to it.

"Oh, god", Emily exclaimed, "this is hell and I'm in it."

"Will you stop complaining and come here?"

"I _am_ here."

"Come sit down _on_ the couch."

Oh, right, she'd found a fixed point of reference on a big, shiny trophy Melissa had won ages ago, and she was still standing. She complied, while Spencer looked at her with a mixture of wonder and indignation.

"Why is the true you always so mad and rude to me?"

"Who's the true me?"

"The _drunk_ person you."

Emily swallowed another gulp of alcohol. "Am I being rude to you?", she asked, giving it a thought.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry", Emily said. "I don't mean to."

Spencer smiled now. "That's the better you I like, thanks."

She suddenly became distracted with the music.

"I actually _really, really_ like this song. It's _so_ cool."

She searched for something first on the table and then on the couch, where she finally seemed to find it under her butt. It was the remote control, and Emily wondered why she hadn't used it before, when she'd almost fallen trying to reach the system. The volume went up until the room was literally overflowed with the piano and the crooner voice, to a point Emily believed she had been sent on a time travel and was staying in the middle of a disco bar in the 40s, drinking champagne and listening to a black-and-white photograph of a man.

Spencer just sat there, devotedly listening to the song with her dark-shaded hazel eyes. _They're writing songs of love, but not for me, a lucky star's above, but not for me_, she hummed in her grave, raspy voice that sounded distinctly lower than that of the crooner guy.

The night was going to be a long and painful mess, for the look of it.

"I should be the one singing that song", Emily blurted out, blue and cold inside.

The song was actually kind of upbeat and cool, but terribly depressing at the same time, now that she was actually listening to it. _I was a fool to fall and get that way…_

Spencer looked at her with another one of her blank stares, lost in the music, but a second after she lowered the volume a little.

"Right, she's not for you. You have _two_ of them, not one", she curtly argued, "while I just lost the love of my life to a psychopath."

Emily felt sorry for her, but not so much as to not feel sorry for herself. Yes, she had two of them, but apparently none of them were for her, she couldn't totally dismiss the memories of their kisses, because she hated champagne and wasn't totally wasted, and at least Toby would answer Spencer's calls if she decided to call him, or if A was arrested, or if Melissa _was_ arrested. Yes, Spencer had problems. But romantic problems – those were _her_ kind of problem, not Spencer's.

They listened to the end of the song, and soon another song started.

"Aren't you gonna say another word?", Spencer asked Emily once the new song had started.

"Change the music. This is depressing."

"No way."

"Way."

"Way too straight."

"Stop it!"

Emily faked a punch to Spencer's jaw, and Spencer ducked her head in a mocking gesture.

She took a moment to contemplate Emily's look of feigned irritation. Underneath it all, she could see a smile twitching and trying to burst out of her lips.

"I have to confess you always looked totally and completely straight to me", Spencer said, while she lowered down the volume even more to hear the sound of her own voice, "and I never even _imagined_ this. Liar, liar. You're a mean liar like Aria is."

"There's no way to look straight, Spencer."

"There's a way to look straight and it's not yours", she contradicted herself, just out of pure pleasure to contradict someone. "At least right now you look totally and definitely _gay_", she cleared, still worried about logical consistence.

"Well, believe me, the best way to look straight isn't your way either."

Spencer seemed shocked. "Seriously?"

She lifted her feet to the couch, crossed her legs in the lotto position, as if that was the best way to look straight, and faced Emily, trying to concentrate in shooting a penetrating, cutting, powerful stare.

"I'm looking straight at you", she smirked. "Therefore, I look straight."

Emily actually had to laugh at that.

"You're too drunk, Spencer."

But she'd been kind of adorable in that one. Or maybe it was the champagne mixing up with the tequila and rushing already through her veins, which made her see Spencer as a less annoying drunkard.

"You're too drunk _too_", Spencer replied, shooting a smile because she'd finally managed to make Emily laugh. "Now, little gay person _and_ friend, don't tell me we're gonna get bored. I don't wanna go all the way down with you." She took a moment to think. "Oops, that was a bad choice of words as well, sorry."

Emily rolled her eyes. Spencer was never the kind to enjoy either gay jokes or sexual jokes, but she seemed to be having a kick out of it tonight. She took the bottle from Spencer's hands and drunk some more, to stop herself from going all the way down, and Spencer did the same after her.

The music sounded now as a distant tickle in their ears.

"Were you serious before about drowning me?", Spencer suddenly asked, a curious look on her face.

Curious detective Spencer, questioning the world around her.

Emily wondered if it wasn't better to go back to I-win-every-argument, I-don't-give-a-damn-about-your-problems Spencer Hastings. Somehow, in the middle of the alcoholic cloud of black-and-white sounds and gassy bubbles, Emily sent herself a warning signal. She didn't really know where it came from. But she heard it distinctly in her head, and it said: Back off, little-lesbian-person-who's-already-fucked-up-enough-with-her-own-life.

"You're so drunk you'd probably drown without my help."

Spencer chuckled but decided to hum again to the song. She liked this one too. _You make me smile with my heart_, she sang, completely out of tune, _your looks are laughable, unphotographable_, but shut her mouth up when she realized she couldn't get the tune right. A few seconds after trying, she turned to look at Emily again and observed her carefully with her heavy-lidded eyes. She had a funny, wide smile on her face, and Emily saw she was preparing to deliver a killer joke. God help her.

"I must tell you I prefer to be punched in the jaw, Emily", she started, thinking Emily was a funny Valentine friend, although today wasn't Valentine's day and Emily was indeed quite photographable. "It's more effective with me. Just so you know when the right moment comes." She gave her a through glance now. "Although you already _seem_ to know."

"Perhaps you should call Hanna", Emily replied sharply, following the joke and at the same time trying to deactivate it. "I'm pretty sure she'd be happy to punch you."

"You seem to be insisting _a lot_ on getting rid of me tonight."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll do it."

She faked another punch at Spencer's jaw, in conciliatory mode, and this time Spencer let her do it and then softly stroked her jaw, as if she'd been actually hurt by the fake blow. Then she offered a twisted, mischievous smile.

"We're flirting", Spencer finally uttered, finding it incredibly funny.

"What?" Emily denied. "No."

Yes, they were flirting. Spencer _was_ flirting. It was probably because of the alcohol, and because of this old, weird, depressing, mellow crooner music.

"We are. You're punching my jaw, _therefore_ you're flirting with me."

All right, so maybe they _were_ flirting. But it was out of line and untrue to actually place the blame on her, so Emily became indignant and scandalized, because if there was someone who was flirting outrageously and quite inappropriately, it was Spencer. Which wasn't surprising, after all. She was probably mistaking her for Aria. Whenever she had to flirt with someone at hand, Spencer always chose Aria.

"Will you stop stressing every word?", Emily begged. "And I'm _not_ flirting with you."

"There's no use in denial. You are. You never do it but you're doing it now."

"Spencer, you're drunk. You'd believe the couch's flirting with you."

Spencer laughed at that and sat even more graciously, straightening her back.

"The couch's touching me, not flirting with me. And the couch's _nice_. Nicer than you." She stretched her neck to approach her face to Emily's. "Am I not good enough for you to flirt? Do I need to smoke weed or to kick someone's gay head with my hockey stick?"

"No, but you'd need to be gay to actually enjoy the privilege."

Emily managed some cuteness in the delivery, and as a result Spencer offered another devious smile.

"Oh, the _privilege_", she stated, stressing the word again, "which I don't enjoy to _flirt_ with our next Olympic champion. See? I don't believe you. Cause flirting involves unnecessary touching and you just punched me in the jaw, _twice_. That, my friend, says all."

"I did it at your request", Emily deadpanned. "Therefore, you are the flirty one."

Great, now she was saying the word _therefore_ too. At least she wasn't stressing it.

"First time it was your own idea", Spencer quickly replied, "therefore, it's your initiative."

Emily rolled her eyes. "How many more bottles of champagne do you have to drink until you actually pass out and stop trying to win every argument?"

"More than one", Spencer said, while she remembered to drink. Then she passed the bottle over to Emily, who drank too. "I know you don't usually flirt with me, but you were doing it now, and no matter how much you deny it, it can't be undone. We can't be friends anymore. I disown you. Please, get out of my house."

Emily looked right at her, on the verge of laughing but still too incredulous to do it.

"I punched you because you wanted to be punched", she shot back, "which, let me tell you, is the weirdest thing ever. You're a freak and you _so_ obviously need Hanna to get you on."

"I know you'd rather be drowned than punched, but let me have my own preferences", Spencer hit and skid the ball back to Emily's court again. "So if I ask you to do something you just do it?"

Her eyes sparkled.

Oh, come on. She was doing it again! It was clearly her fault!

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Flirt with your gay friend", Emily said, "and you should know that's way worse than shooting puppies and strangling kittens and skinning little seals to get dressed in winter."

Spencer chew on her lower lip, actually giving it a very drunken thought. After a couple of seconds, she sat further away, reclining against the opposite couch arm.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

Emily tossed her hand in the air and saluted the invisible audience.

"Point, set, match."

Spencer looked annoyed for a moment, but she was mainly contrite. Apparently, the mention of gay puppies, kittens and seals had totally convinced her of her evilness.

"What?", Emily asked after a while of receiving the contrite stare.

"Okay, I admit it", Spencer acknowledged, all apologetic and pouty-lipped, "I was doing it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"You forgive me?"

"I forgive you."

"Thank you", Spencer bowed her head to the Gay Friend, "and for your safety and the preservation of your puppy innocence, I will refrain from making any more straight comments and jokes about drowning and punching people."

"I will be eternally grateful for that, oh great master of heterosexuality."

"Can I ask you something?", she said, back to detective mode.

No, Emily thought in dread. How many seconds did Spencer's determination last when she was drunk? 0.1?

She just raised her eyebrows and shrugged in expectation.

"Do I look un-straight to you?"

"What?"

"You said I didn't look straight before."

"I was getting back at you."

There was an awkward silence, during which Emily first drunk some more of that disgusting beverage and then decided to proceed to slowly slip from the couch and sit on the floor. However, Spencer's hand stopped her, grabbed her by the neck of her shirt and elevated her back to the couch almost as if she was, indeed, a puppy being lifted by her mother.

"We are enduring a _very_ uncomfortable moment, I know", Spencer stated, looking right through at her, "but there's no need for you to run away. I'm messed up in my head, but I promise you I'm not flirting. Murdering gay puppies is not really my thing."

"Okay", Emily accepted, reclining her back against the opposite arm of the couch. "I wasn't running away, though."

Well, she was, in a way, but not really. She was just _doing_ something.

"I know your running-away face. It goes like this".

Spencer went wide-eyed and pouty and frowny in a very weird way which didn't look like Emily at all, even though that was actually Emily's running-away face.

"That's Aria's sad face, not mine. You're just confused."

"Aria's sad face doesn't own the frown, yours does", Spencer knowingly answered, pressing the point where her own frown formed. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."

Emily nodded, but another awkward silence followed.

Great. So now their drunken friendship was screwed just because of a very slight flirty moment which hadn't been planned or even realized.

"Spencer, you can keep talking to me", Emily decided to say after a while, realizing Spencer's uneasiness. "It's okay. I already forgave you."

"You sure?"

"I think my innocence can survive a little flirting."

Anyway, her innocence had already been massacred by Alison. Spencer knew that, so maybe that was why she was so apologetic and uneasy all of a sudden. But the truth was that she wasn't a puppy anymore. Besides, it wasn't as if she hadn't shared a part in the tease, although she wasn't going to admit to that in front of Spencer, for the sake of winning the argument.

In any case, her words seemed to calm Spencer down a little.

"I'm just not totally sure I can control it all the time", Spencer sheepishly added, because she was drunk and that was the truth, maybe she couldn't really hold it back.

"It's fine, Spencer. We're safe."

"We are?"

"Yep", Emily assured, thinking she'd probably be able to control it anyway. "I'll just stop you if you try to assault me."

"Ha", Spencer drily replied. "The way I remember it…" She trailed off when she saw Emily's brows raising as a red flag. "You know what?"

Emily looked interested, but Spencer grew silent while she considered what she was going to say. She started to take her flats off and, once she'd thrown them out of the sofa, she reached Emily's feet with her hands to take her boots off too. However, as soon as Emily started doing it herself, she retreated to her place on the sofa and observed Emily struggle to untie the laces.

"Let's get real and true", she said, finally.

Emily shot her a quizzical glance while she was still getting rid of her shoes.

"Let's be _really_ drunk together", Spencer tried again. "We haven't talked a lot lately, so let's talk. You and me. Masterminds of the drunken spaceship."

Emily looked at her suspiciously while she placed her boots on the carpet and lifted her feet to the couch too.

"I mean it", Spencer insisted. "I start."

"Start with what exactly?"

"With the Drunken Truth Game."

Emily sighed. "I'm not really into truth-or-dare games anymore."

"You never were", Spencer answered. "But this is only a voluntary truth game. We share whatever we wanna say. I start." She only took a second to put the words in order in her head, because what she wanted to say was actually kind of clear and not very blurry like other things. "I was pissed when I found out about you being gay. I mean, not about you _actually_ being gay. I like your being gay. Gay people are good for the world, especially if they're you. But I was pissed because you didn't tell me about it."

Well, it actually didn't come out so clear, but the point was understood, and Emily nodded in slow-motion.

"Aha. Why didn't you tell me you were pissed?"

"It wasn't that important. I guess you had your reasons not to tell us."

"They were wrong. I mean, the reasons were wrong."

Spencer smiled at that, because she somehow understood what Emily meant. "Your turn."

"I pass."

"No, no, no, no", Spencer denied with her head. "You don't get to pass. Just say something true. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

She offered her the bottle of champagne to encourage her, and Emily drank a little.

"I don't think you should trust Melissa." Spencer already knew her opinion, so she shot a resentful look. "What? It's true. I mean it."

Another outburst of resentment flowed through Spencer's eyes.

"Could you actually make the effort to say something related to us and not to my sister?", she sarcastically pleaded. "Thank you."

Emily sighed and tried to think about other things that were true. But everything was true. She hadn't lied to Spencer in a long time.

Maybe she meant things that were true but which they didn't get to say often.

"I think you're crazy", she finally offered, and Spencer raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, for real. You're really, really crazy. Is that good enough?"

Spencer frowned. "I guess, if it's true."

"It is. You're totally crazy. You're a crazy person." She offered a smile to counteract the effect of her truthful words. "Your turn again."

Spencer thought a little about her next truth, and suddenly her face lit up.

"As mean and cruel as you're being right now, I must tell you that you're my favourite person in the world. It's true", she insisted, when she saw Emily's look of disbelief. "I wanna be accepted and revered and beloved by you. And I'm obviously not succeeding, at least when it comes to the drunk true you."

"Seriously? It doesn't really show."

"What do you mean it doesn't show?"

"Never mind", Emily dismissed. "Thanks. I'm glad I'm an old-time favourite of yours."

"Aren't you even gonna return it?"

"Am I supposed to? I thought this was the Drunken Truth Game, or something."

Spencer shot a cushion to her face instead of an offended look. The cushion landed on Emily's forehead because she was actually too slow to lift her hand and stop it from hitting.

"Hey!"

"You deserve it", Spencer accused. "I'm opening my heart to you and you're mean, which you're only to me, by the way, cause I never see you being mean to Hanna and Aria, or to your line of devoted gay lovers."

"That's not true", Emily responded, throwing the cushion back with a lot less speed and force. "You _are_ important for me too. But you probably have a lot of favourite people depending on the moment."

Spencer gaped at her and held the cushion again, but never shot it.

"You don't believe it? You disgusting gay puppy person! It's the truth. It's the game of drunken truth!"

Emily grinned, but decided to actually prove the reasons of her disbelief.

"Let me check."

She stretched to get Spencer's phone from the table. Once she had it in her hands, she went through it until she found her name, while Spencer stared at her in all seriousness and curiosity.

"_Emily F._", she read aloud. "Because I am so, _so_ special to you that I share the place next to Emily D., Emily H. and Emily Y."

She shrugged, stating her point and holding Spencer's gaze in yet another triumphant smashing blow. She left the phone on the table again and went back to her place against her couch arm.

But she decided to add a final bite.

"Is that how you treat your favourite person?"

Spencer's mouth opened again in surprise.

"I happen to know a lot of Emilies. That is _not_ my fault. "

"It's okay."

"It is _not_ okay. That name on the phone doesn't mean anything."

"Wanna check my phone?"

Emily looked for Spencer's number on her phone and, when she found it, she offered it to Spencer.

"_Spencer_", Spencer read aloud. "So what? You only know one Spencer. I am your only Spencer."

"You _are_ my one and only Spencer, but please read the name again."

Spencer complied, and her skin grew pale. "Fuck", she uttered as she read her name once more. It said _Spence_, not _Spencer_. "I'm changing your name right now."

It was the name-phone wars, and she was going to prove she hadn't lied, so she took her phone from the table and started changing Emily's name. But she was too drunk. Somehow she pushed the wrong button when she was trying to save the changes.

"Oh, gimme a break, man."

She couldn't lose the name-phone wars. Not now. This was important.

"What?"

"I erased you."

"You erased me?"

"I was changing your name to Em and it just disappeared. You're not here anymore."

"You did it on purpose."

"I _didn't_".

Emily looked sort of pissed now. "So much for a favourite person", she drily tried to smirk. "I guess I'll just have to leave the Hastings mansion now."

However, she didn't make any effort to actually try to move away from the couch. She was also too drunk to even give a shot at playing that game.

"Come on, Em", Spencer pleaded, still trying to convince Emily. "I'm typing it and recording it all over again."

"You're just doing it because you're losing the argument."

"I'm doing it because I _feel_ it."

"And you're feeling it because you're drunk."

"I'm drunk, thus I'm telling the truth. It's the Drunken Truth Game."

Therefore, it was only logical.

It took her ages to type the name again, because her finger insisted on pressing the wrong letters, but she finally managed to do it. Once she'd gotten everything right, she showed it to Emily: it said _My Em_ instead of _Em_. She offered a bright, triumphant smile, even though now there was no number that corresponded to the name. She'd have to ask Emily later.

Emily still looked unmoved, though.

"Now you just won't find me because I'm not in the right letter. And anyway you're drunk. We'll see where I end up tomorrow."

"You'll end up exactly right here, in the M", Spencer passionately argued. "You're My Em, so it's M for both. Get it? I love you." She made a dramatic pause. "Hey, that was the next truth. I wasn't supposed to say it now."

"I love you too, Spencer H."

"You're never gonna forgive me for this whole Emily F thing, right?", Spencer said, starting to feel defeated.

Instead of continuing the torturing war, or the long tennis match which actually seemed to be more of a Grand Slam tournament, Emily enjoyed the new victory and burst out in laughter.

"You're my buddy", Spencer pouted, but suddenly smiled when she realized the song sounding now was actually called like that. "_My buddy, my buddy, nobody quite so true_", she tried to sing along, again totally missing the tune.

Emily was still laughing.

_My buddy, my buddy, your buddy misses you_.

"I got my final truth and then I'm quitting the game", Emily said, picking up on Spencer's out-of-tune singing. "I miss you."

Spencer stopped trying to sing along to the song.

"You miss me?", she repeated, confused. "Why would you miss me? I'm right here."

Emily recovered her serious, though clearly drunken face. "I think we've grown a little distant lately."

Drunk or not, Emily's truth completely triggered Spencer's interest.

"Is this about me taking Aria to the tracking-phone-guy thing?", she asked. She'd taken Aria because… Well, she hadn't taken Aria. Aria had taken her. Because she was the money. "You know why that happened."

"No, it's not that", Emily denied. She understood why they'd gone together to that. "We're still friends, we're just not talking as much as we used to."

Spencer took a pause to respond, seriously stunned. In a way, she did see what Emily meant because that was also the reason why she'd started the Drunken Truth Game. She didn't see it as a growing distance, though.

"You were the one I turned to when I needed someone to talk to Toby."

Emily shot her a see-you-through glance.

"And why was that? No one else could've talked to him." She saw Spencer's troubled, confused expression. "But it's all right, I understand."

However, Spencer didn't want Emily to understand.

"No, it's not all right, I…" Spencer frowned now so intensely Emily thought her last functioning brain cells were going to start screaming in despair. "You're also hanging out with Hanna a lot lately, and I guess…"

"It's not something that needs to be explained, Spencer, really."

"I didn't realize I was being missed."

She pouted, but somehow felt warm inside because this truth had actually come out of Emily's mouth voluntarily. She felt like crossing the distance of the couch to give Emily the warm hug that was slowly growing and expanding through her nerves and her arms, but she'd been accused of being flirty a while earlier and she felt a little wary to do the _assault_. Maybe Emily would stop her, and that would be awkward again, right?

"I guess I didn't realize I was missing you so much either", Emily confessed too.

She shot one of her true-Emily smiles, which totally and completely disarmed whatever memory of her meanness before. She was a pretty insufferable drunk person but, on the other hand, her sweetness came across even more intensely once it resurfaced. Spencer smiled back, and was on the verge of making the decision to cross to the other side to hug her when Emily closed her eyes and slid her body on the couch to let her head rest on the couch arm. The room was spinning now intensely. She hadn't reached numbness, only a giant head-turning and probably a future worse headache. But at least she wasn't hating the world. And she wasn't even thinking about Maya. She'd do it tomorrow again, but right now her main target in life consisted in stopping the place from going in circles inside her.

"Are you all right?", Spencer asked. "I still have truths to share."

"I'm dizzy", Emily answered to definitely end the game.

"Are you gonna fall asleep already?"

"I wish I could."

Spencer finally crossed the distance and approached Emily on her side of the couch. She made place between its back and Emily's body, trying to reach a comfortable position, and lied down next to her, but didn't say anything. She wasn't going to hug her, just in case, but at least she'd get to be there, in the close vicinity of her drunken soul.

A sudden, intense increase in the size of the cloud of alcohol and perfume invaded the alcoholic atmosphere Emily was already breathing, sending a pang of pain to her head.

She opened her eyes and saw Spencer there, staring.

"You're making me dizzier", Emily said, but the look of surprise on Spencer's face made her realize maybe she hadn't been _that_ clear in their current circumstances. "I mean, because of your smell." So that didn't sound good either. "You smell of alcohol and perfume."

"Oh", Spencer answered, touching her dark burgundy flowered shirt and trying to smell it. "Is it that bad?"

"It's not in your shirt", Emily said, suddenly smiling because it was kind of funny. "It's everywhere."

Spencer smiled back, but seemed hesitant as to what to do now. Should she cross the couch again to take away her own cloud of alcohol and perfume? She didn't use that much perfume. And it was a good, expensive, subtle one. It couldn't be _that_ bad. Emily also smelled of alcohol and perfume, but it didn't actually bother her.

"Should I…", she started to question, but trailed off. "Do you need me to go?"

"I just hope I won't throw up on you", Emily replied, trying to smile.

Oh, that was a bad, disgusting image.

But it wasn't going to send Spencer away. She could take the risk. She should actually go try to find some kind of recipient in case Emily felt that sick. Was she feeling that sick?

"Are you feeling that sick?", she asked.

"Not yet."

Spencer placed her hand on Emily's forehead, which was feverishly burning with heat.

"Just make sure to tell me if you're feeling worse, okay?"

Emily nodded, and closed her eyes again. "I will, Spencer H."

Spencer smiled, but didn't answer anything. She just watched her and watched her until Emily's breathing turned slower and more peaceful, the sign she'd fallen asleep. Still, she was afraid of waking her up if she tried to move, so she didn't. There was no way she was leaving Emily's side of the couch. She was sticking. Spencer knew how to stick to a person, especially if that person had said she was being missed. And that was what Emily had said. She'd received the message. She'd taken her notes.

With her hand under her head to act as a semi-pillow, she tried to catch her sleep too.


End file.
